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HO PLAYS EXCHANGED. 

iAKCR'5 Edition 

or PL7\Y3 ^ 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND 
THE BOYS 



Price, 15 Cents 




COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 



n. U). Pinero's Plays 

Price» SO 0etits £acb 



THP AMA7nN^ Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, five fe- 
iri£i /\iflrl£<\/ilkJ males. Costumes, modern; scenery, not 
difficult. Plays a full evening. 

THE CABINET MINISTER SX, ':Jr/.JS^l: S," 

tumes, modern society; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

HANFlY FiTPK" Farce in Three Acts. Seven males, four fe- 
i/rlliLrl l/l\^lv males. Costimies, modern; scenery, two inte- 
riors. Plays two hours and a half. 

THI7 r'AV I APn niTFY Comedy in Four Acts. Four males, 
in£i UAl Li\JS\.U KlyJi^A. ten females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. 

UTQ UniTQI? TM ni?ni71? Comedy in Four Acts. Nine males, 
niO niiUOi:! lll UIVLTEiIV iv,ur females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

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in£i nUDDl IlV/IViJi:i nve females. Costumes, modern; 
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IpiC Drama in Five Acts. Seven males, seven females. Costumes, 
lIVlO modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

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No. 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 



Aunt Abigail and the Boys 



A Farce in One Act 



By 
LILLIE FULLER MERRIAM 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

1913 



Aunt Abigail and the Boys 



CHARACTERS 

Gerald Harris, a Harvard student living in private apart- 
ments. 
Bob Jennings, 
John Crannock, 
Bert London, 
Joe Weeks, 
Will Underwood, 
Fritz Himmelstein, 

Frank Sylvester, a Harvard senior in love with Geraldine, 
Aunt Abigail Perkins, a Ka7isas Suffragette. 
Geraldine Harris, iwijt sister to Gerald. 
Grocery Boy. 



Harvard students and 
friends of Gerald. 



Plays One Hour 




Copyright, 191 3, by Walter H. Baker & Co, 



/ 



CI.D 33677 



Aunt Abigail and the Boys 



SCENE. — A college boy's room at Harvard,— private apart- 
ments. Usual furiiishings — couch, Morris chair, pictures 
of football teams, tea-table, bookcase, screen, buffet with 
dishes, mirror , teakettle, golf clubs, baseball and football 
outfits, etc. 

(Curtain rises on an empty room. Door opens and GKV.AhT> 
Harris comes in from recitation, flings books and note- 
book into a corner, and is about to light a cigarette when 
he sees the mail and tears open a letter. Whistles.) 

Gkrald. Gorryation ! What do you know about this ? 
Here's a letter from my respected great aunt from Kansas, and 
it begins: ''Hotel Touraine, Boston, Mass., April 20th. My 
dear Geraldine." {Turns to envelope and reads address.) 
"Miss Geraldine Harris, 5 Eliot Terrace "—that's my street 
and number all right. Now that's what comes of naming a 
pair of twins Gerald and Geraldine. I could have told my 
fond parents how it would be right in the beginning, if they'd 
asked me. What in thunder does this mean ! {Reads on.) 
<< I am anxious to see you, my dear niece. I want to assure 
myself that you are wise to set up bachelor-girl apartments, and 
especially so near that most objectionable institution, a college 
for men. I know it is quite the thing to do nowadays, quite 
ill faute," the old lady spells it— ill faute. {Shrugs shoulders 
and goes on.) ''I appreciate the desire of the woman of to- 
day to have an entirely separate existence quite apart from the 
narrowing influence of male society," hum, ''but it vvas un- 
heard of in my day and generation for a woman to live alone 
in apartments in the same town with her parents, and I may as 
well confess to a real feminine curiosity as to how the thing is 
done. I write this, therefore, to tell you that I am staying at 
the Touraine for a few days, and that I shall go out from Bos- 



4 AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 

ton in time to lunch with you to-morrow. Perhaps you will 
like to return with me to the matinee. I have tickets for the all 
woman cast at the Bijou Dream for the benefit of unmarried 
working women. I hope to find you a girl after my own heart 
— one who can sympathize with me in my aversion to the op- 
posite sex — one who goes on her dignified way asking and con- 
ferring no favors upon men in any form. I cannot forbear hint- 
ing to you that should I find you my ideal girl, the future may 
be full of opportunities for you. It has always been a regret to 
me that my grand nieces are unknown to me, but I have taken 
this journey East expressly to make their acquaintance, and 1 
know I shall not be disappointed. Affectionately yours, Abi- 
gail Perkins." (^Looks at date.') Written last night ! Wow ! 
I don't mind saying that's a corker ! She thinks Geraldine 
lives here, by all that's good and great. I'll call up the 
Touraine and set her straight on that. {Goes to telepho7ie.) 

Hullo, give me Tremont 880 Yes Hullo, Touraine? Is 

Miss Abigail Perkins there? All right. {Waifs.) What's 
that ? Gone out ? Won't be back till when ? Oh ! all right. 
Good-bye. {Hangs up the ielepJioiie and drops limply into a 
chair.) The old lady's started for Cambridge probably, and 
there's no heading her off. Mother and Geraldine are in New 
York, too. Confound it ! that's too bad, for Aunt Abigail's 
favor is worth having. Guess I'd better straighten up a bit. 
{Begins to put things tinder couch and into drawers.) Didn't 
know things did look so bad here. It'll just confirm her aver- 
sion to the opposite sex to see me here — quite a shock to our 
Kansas relative — not that I'm much of a man to look at. 
{Goes to mirror.) Gee ! I wish I was as big as Worthington. 
I'm not much taller than Geraldine, and I'm the boy of the 
pair. I look like a girl, too, dang it, if this mop would only 
straighten out. (Brushes hair.) Belter doll up a bit, Gerald, 
and get into a biled shirt. These men-haters won't stand for 
soft collars and old cravats. If they've got to speak to a man 
they want him nice and starchy, "quite ill faute," as my Aunt 
Abigail says. {Disappears into the bedroom. Comes out in 
wovian^ s dress and wig, but man'' s shoes. Prances about and 
looks at himself in 7nirror.) Well, if ever two people looked 
alike it's my twin and I. I didn't suppose when I lugged 
Geraldine's suit-case up here the night before she went to New 
York with her Dramatic Club costume in it, that it was ever 
going to save the day for me and help me make a good impres- 
sion on my Kansas auntie. Gee ! I forgot to change my 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS C 

shoes. Wonder if I can get Geraldine's on. {Dlsaf^pears. 
Comes back in despair.) Can't get 'em within a luiie. ' Won- 
der why the same sized boy has so much bigger hands and feet 
than a girl ! Oh ! Luddy, 1 never thought about her expect- 
mg me to go out to lunch with her. Why, I couldn't i)ossibly, 
— no hat, and 1 can't wear the gloves. This is no go. 1 must 
get out of this rig and be a poor unfortunate man with nothing 
ill the future for me. 

{Starts for bedroom, but a knock at the door is followed by 
the eiitratice at once of Aunt Abigail Perkins, a womuji 
about sixty five. Aunt K.'s face expresses surprise at 
first, but she advances to her niece who stands awkwardly 
by the Af orris chair for a mo7nent. Throughout Gerald 
tries to conceal his shoes. ) 

Aunt A. I'm sure this is Geraldine. Have I surprised 
you, or did you get my letter ? I am your Aunt Abigail Per- 
kins from Kansas. 

{She puts up her face to be kissed, at which Gerald looks 
rather peculiar. He kisses her, offering his hand and 
places her in a chair.) 

Gerald {voice feminine). I was just a little surprised, for 
the moment. Aunt Abigail. The janitor has always been par- 
ticular to bring names up, but you must have got by him. 

Aunt A. Oh ! no, 1 didn't pass him, for he was nowhere 
to be seen, so I just came right up. I felt that you would be 
expecting me, and wouldn't mind my coming right in. 

Gerald. Certainly not. 

{Ufieasy glances about at things not in order ; pictures, etc.) 

Aunt A. In short my curiosity was so great to see just how 
you were living, — your rooms, your furnishings and, I confess, 
just what your idea of housekeeping is — (/^/////^ Gerald on 
cheek), that I could hardly wait to get here. This is a pleasant 
living-room. Are your other rooms as sunny? 

Gerald. Why, ah, yes — er — I have only one more ; my 
sleeping-room and a coal closet, you know. 

Aunt A. Oh, indeed ! Well, before you show me about, 
let me ask for your father and mother and' your brother ; your 
twin, is he not ? 

Gerald. Yes, we are twins. 

Aunt A. Does the family live far from here ? 



6 AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 

Gerald. Only the next street. I'm sorry to say moiher 
and Gerald are in New York this week — looking after millinery. 
I, that is to say, — (Aunt A. looks surprised, t/ien folds her 
hands with ati air of " I told you so ") mother is, and Gerald 
always helps her. 

Aunt A. {severely). Well, I'm glad you didn't feel it 
necessary to go two hundred miles after a hat, and your 
brother's going only proves to me that men are at heart frivo- 
lous creatures with minds set strongly upon vanity and external 
things. I am glad to find you in Cambridge instead of Gerald, 
for, to tell you truly, my aversion is men, and particularly boys. 
I hope you feel just as I do about it. 

Gerald. Certainly, auntie. {Conversation languishes for 
a moment, then Gerald starts sudde7ily.) My dear aunt, I 
am forgetting my duties as hostess. Let me take your wraps 
into my bedroom. 

(He assists her out of her wraps and is about to go into the 
bedroom with them.) 

Aunt A. Let me go right in with you. There's my suit- 
case. I brought along another gown to put on before we go 
back to town. 

Gerald. Just a moment, auntie, I want to straighten up a 
bit. 

Aunt A. Oh, all right. Just call me when you're ready. 
I'll sit here and look around at your pictures and things. 
(Gerald goes into bedrootn carrying suit-case. He glances 
back ifi dismay. Aunt A., from the Morris chair.) I sup- 
pose a room is the unconscious expression of the occupant's 
taste. I will confess that I had thought I should find Gerald- 
ine's a little more refined. I don't quite understand why she 
need have that great Harvard banner covering the wall paper, 
when there was a fine chance to hang some good copies of the 
old masters. {Picks up S7aimming team pictures from table.) 
Oh ! dear me, what an array of boys in low necks and short 
sleeves and very short trousers. Does this seem quite the thing 
for a young woman of good family to surround herself wilh ? 
( Walks about the roojn.) She has some good books, but here's 
a large space given up to Spalding's books on sports, — tennis, 
baseball, football, {Finds baseball bat, mil and ball on table.) 
Mercy, I hope my niece isn't one of those freaks, a female base- 
ball player. (Finds golf clubs.) She must play golf; that 
isn't so bad, although I must say, I think the crochet needle is 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 7 

more becoming to the feminine hand than a golf stick. Such 
pretty things are made now in Irish crochet, and it is so easily 
carried to Travel Club meetings and Literature Classes — ^just a 
litde bag on your forefinger and cverylhing with you. What a 
collection of beer mugs ! Heavens, can I believe my nose ? 
They have every one been used ! (Smells of each with grhnacc. ) 
She must have learned the use of beer that winter her father 
sent her to Munich. 1 declare it's hard to fancy such a very 
pretty feminine-looking girl drinking real beer like a fat Ger- 
man. (Gerald has overheard this and ivithdraws his head 
from bedroom door tvith expressio?i of disgust. Aunt A. coii- 
ti fines to go about on her voyage of discovery — runs her fnger 
over furniture^ wiping dust from it tvith handkerchiefs etc. 
Behind a pile of books on table she finds pipes and a box of 
cigarettes and far of tobacco. She goes through pantomifne.') 
Well, well, well, this is pretty bad. {Holds up pipe.') Is this 
what it means to be a bachelor- girl? To be a bachelor-girl 
means that you do everything a man does as nearly as you can. 
However {thoitghlfully), it may indicate that very emancipa- 
tion from masculine rule that it has so long been my ambition 
to establish, and if my young niece has found the solution to be 
this — to assert in every way her right to do the identical things 
that man-made society laws prohibit — then she may be nearer 
than I to the golden goal, the great achievement. {Looks 
about.) There doesn't seem to be any beer to drink, but I can 
put a cigarette in my mouth. {Puts cigarette between teeth 
with evident distaste.) I don't dare light it — ugh — and I've 
always wanted to get hi)Id of a golf club. (Takes stick 
from holder, and still holding cigarette in her mouth, in rather 
frightened tones calls.) Fore ! 

Gerald (cofuing out of bedroom). There, auntie (Aunt 
A. drops cigarette afid go f stick), the room is all in order now 
if you want to change your dress. I'm sorry our *' goody " is 
so late to-day. She's a pretty slack old thing. 

Aunt A. Goody ? I thought only men's apartments had 
goodys. 

Gerald. Well, perhaps so in the West, but here we all have 
them who live in this way. 

Aunt A. Oh! (^Starts for bedroom.) What time do you 
go to lunch, or do you get your own here ? 

Gerald. Oh ! I always go out {bethinking himself), but 
to-day wouldn't you like a cup of tea right here with me, just 
we two? (Insinuatingly.) 



8 AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 

Aunt A. Certainly; it would be a pleasure. I always en- 
joy being alone with my own sex. It would save time, for we'll 
have to start in town a little early for the matinee. 

(^Disappears into bedroo7n.') 

Gerald. Oh ! Lord ! I'm in a scrape, believe me. I 
haven't a grain of tea in the room (Jiuiiting about'), nothing but 
bottled stuff — the cracker-box is empty, and how can I get out 
to get anything ? I can telephone, but the boy who brings it up 
will give me dead away. Perhaps I can manage to have Aunt 
Abigail take in the stuff when it comes. {Goes to te/ephofie.) 

Cambridge 3869 M Hello, Grey's Grocery? (^Feminine 

voice.) Will you send over to Room 42, 5 Eliot Terrace, a 
pound of best tea — Orange Pekoe — and a box of Educator 
Toasterettes ? Let me see — a dozen lemons, a pound of block 
sugar, and say ! go into that bake shop next door and get me 
a sheet of gingerbread. Say! hurry up, will you? What's 
that ? Charge it to me. What ? Why, you know me ! Sure 
you do. Pve bought things of you for two years. Yes, Ger- 
ald-ine Harris. Well, you know 6^<fr^A/ Harris. Pm his twin 
sister. Oh ! that's all right. Well, send the bill with it. 
Hurry up. Gee ! I don't know how this is coming out. 

( Wipes perspiration from brow.) 

Aunt A. {from within bedroom door). Geraldine, will 
you hook me up? 

Gerald (Jhrowins^ up his hands). Certainly, auntie. 

Aunt A. Pll come out there ; the light is better than in this 
room, I think. (Aunt A. comes out to frofit of stage a?id 
turns about to be hooked up.) I had to leave my dress on the 
chair, Geraldine. I couldn't get into the closet. 

Gerald. That's all right, auntie. 

Aunt A. Your bedroom seems a little bare, dear, for a 
girl's room. 

Gerald. We bachelor-girls like them that way — more 
sanitary. 

Aunt A. You evidently have one girl friend you're very 
fond of. I found her photographs about everywhere. 

Gerald. Yes, auntie. {Struggles with hooks and eyes.) 

Aunt A. Is she your chum ? 

Gerald. Yes, auntie. 

Aunt A. What's her name? 



AUNT ABIGAIL ANfD THE BOYS ^ 

Geuald, Julia. 

Aunt A. Did you fasten that down there ? 

Gerald {getli?ig more and more frantic and awkward'). I 
tliink so, auntie. 

Aunt A. Now, if you'll just put that pin in the back of ray 
collar. Thanks. {^Catches glimpse of Gerald's shoes.) I 
guess you'll want to change your shoes, won't you, dear? 
These don't seem to go with your pretty dress. 

(Gerald, in dismay, tries to cover shoes.) 

Gerald. Yes, if you'll excuse me a few minutes ; I have 
to do one or two little things before I can go out, write a note, 
etc. — I may be gone, oh, ten minutes or so. And, auntie, if 
the grocer boy comes with our lunch supplies, will you pay 
him? {Hands her money.) Will you read? There's the 
Review of Reviews and the Ladies^ Hoine Journal that Gerald- 
ine — Gerald left here. 

Aunt A. Your brother left here ! That young man ! It's 
evident that his sister requires stronger meat than that. ( Waves 
her hand toward the bookcase afid sporting magazi?ies on the 
table.) Oh ! come back here, Geraldine ; you need hooking up 
in the back. 

'. Gerald. Oh ! that's all right. Aunt Abigail. I may take it 
off anyway. 

Aunt A. {soliloqnizifig as Gerald leaves her). Geraldine 
has the Boston taste in shoes evidently — a pretty girl — a little 
odd in figure — flat in the waist, etc. Perhaps golf is responsi- 
ble for that. 

(Aunt A. is about to settle herself to read luhen a knock 
that is a pound is heard on the door, and in bounces Bob 
Jennings.) 

Bob. Hullo, there ! 

Aunt A. (with dignity afid without looking around). You 
may put the groceries on the sideboard, and here's the money 
for them. My niece does not wish to be disturbed. 

Bob. Gee whiz ! I beg your pardon, madam ; I'm not used 
to seeing a lady in Gerald's room. 

Aunt A. {springing to her feet in astonishment — aside). 
Gerald ! Such familiarity — a nickname, probably. {To Bob.) 
I'm quite sure you would see no one who is not a lady in my 
niece's apartment. You do not seem to be a grocer boy. May 
I ask who you are ? 



10 AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 

(Gerald's head appears from the bedroom door, and he 
catches Bob's attention behind Aunt A.'s back, and makes 
frantic gestures for help.) 

Bob. I — oh — I'm one of her brother's friends, Bob Jennhigs. 
I just dropped in on my way to lunch. 

Aunt A. (aside). Dropped in on the way to lunch ! Is 
this a new phase of bachelor girlhood ? I confess it is a trifle 
startling. (To Bob, sternly.) I am sorry to disappoint you, 
but it will not be convenient for Miss Harris to see you ai pres- 
ent, — a little later, perhaps, since you are a friend of her 
brother's. 

Bob. But I wanted to see Gerald. 

Aunt A. Gerald is in New York with his mother selecting 
the family supply of millinery. (Great score.) 

Bob. I thought I just saw him. (Frantic waving from the 
bedroom door behind Aunt A.'s back.) I — er — 1 guess it was 
yesterday, maybe. I'll be back again in a little while, madam, 
if it's more convenient. Good-day, madam. (Aunt A. bows 
and seats herself with back to bedroom door. Bob, aside to 
Gerald.) I'm on to you, old man. I'll send all the fellows 
in, and we'll have the time of our lives ! 

(Bob goes out. Grocer's Boy comes itito the room.) 

Grocer's Boy (depositing bundles on table). Miss Harris 
ordered these things. 

Aunt A. Yes, 1 understand. How much is the bill? 

Grocer's Boy. Here's the slip — dollar and forty cents. 
(Aunt A. looks over the slip.) They didn't have no ginger- 
bread, so I brought cookies. 

Aunt A. That's all right. Have you change for a two-dol- 
lar bill? 

Grocer's Boy. Yes, ma'am. (Makes change, and says as 
he leaves room.) Fine day ! 

(Aunt A. starts to read again, and then gets tip.) 

Aunt A. I'll just start lunch along while Geraldine is busy. 
We haven't any too much time. [Lights the alcohol lamp — 
pours water into kettle frofu pitcher on buffet. Discovers foot- 
ball outfit hanging on screen, and she removes it in a gingerly 
manner and hans^s it on the clothes pole. Fulls the screen 
around her.) There's such a draft here. 

(Door opens. Frank Sylvester e?tters and calls.) 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS II 

Frank. Hullo! Anybody home? (Avut A. peers ro////d 
the screen at him in as to fits hne fit. He does not see her.) Out 
as usual. Gee ! what wouldn't I give to see Geraldine. If I 
could only have her one minute alone ! It's rather hard on a 
fellow to get this kind of a letter from the girl who's the one 
girl for him. (^Takes out letter and reads.) ''New York 
City, April 20th. — Dear Frank — 1 really can't decide, dear, 
just now. You know how I feel about it — I don't need to tell 
you that — but I am getting awfully interested in the Suffrage 
question, and I feel that it may take such a hold upon me that 
I couldn't be happy till I had tried it out. Can't you see? 
And then, too, I have a dear old auntie coming on from Kansas 
soon, who is devoted to the subject, and I want to talk it over 
with her. She may not like you — I can't imagine such a thing, 
boy mine — but I really want to wait a little longer. It seems 
to me it would be easier if you were poor and I felt that you 
needed me, but you don't, you see, — you're all made, as it 
were — and I do long to feel that I am of real use in the world. 
Just now it seems as if, perhaps, I'd rather be a Suffragette than 
a wife. I may think differently after talking with auntie, so 
ask me again after she has been here, that is, if you really want 
to, — I shall always be devotedly yours, Geraldine. P. S. 
Mother and I will be at home by noon to-morrow, the twenty- 
first." (Frank kisses and folds letter, and puts it in his left 
breast pocket.) So I'm all made ! She can't be of any use to 
me ! I don't suppose that girl has the least conception of what 
she has been to me these past four years — ever since I entered 
college. I was pretty wild then — I know I worried father and 
mother awfully. I've never gone into anything since I've 
known Geraldine that I haven't measured up by her standard. 
The things she's kept me out of, she'll never know. I couldn't 
tell her. If women only knew how a word from them turns the 
tide sometimes; a bit of praise — I'm glad you did this — or — 
I'm pleased that you didn't do that — ^just makes a fellow strong 
for the higher thing many a time vvhen the question comes up 
again. She says she will be at home by this noon. I wonder 
when I can see her. It's a long time from noon to eight o'clock 
in the evening ! (Sighs.) If 1 could only get hold of Gerald ! 
He might influence her. Oh ! say, something's got to be done 
to get that suffrage-bee out of her bonnet. I'd like to have a 
talk with the Kansas auntie. I think I could convince her that 
a little delicate bunch of femininity like Geraldine isn't for suf- 
frage work. Well, so long. \_£xit. 



la AUNfT ABIGAIL AN'D THE BOYS 

Aunt A., {coming from behind screeii). A little bunch of 
femininity ! (^Looks about the room.) He can't have noticed 
Geraldine's boots or the pipes and beer mugs. Love certainly 
is blind. Most extraordinary ! these boys walking into a sin- 
gle lady's apartment without the ceremony of a knock. I 
thought the manners of the West were pretty free and easy, but 
they can't compare with those of Cambridge, Mass. {Takes 
lip book, but puts it dowji thoughtfully,') I rather liked that 
boy, though. He certainly thinks a good bit of Geii'.ldine, and 
it's evident that she has been a powerful influence for good with 
him. ** if he could only have a talk with the Kansas auntie." 
That's too rich. {Laughs.') And the little maid wants to talk 
it over with me, too. No time like the present. I'll go right 
in and 

{Knock stops her on her way to bedroom. She opens the door.) 

Enter John Crannock, Bert London a fid Joe Weeks. 

John {with much grace). Pardon me, madam, is Miss Har- 
ris at home ? 

Aunt A. (severely). She is — but very busy. Can I take 
her a message ? 

Bert. Do you think she will be at leisure soon ? We want 
to talk over some suffrage matters with her. {Aside.) Wonder 
if I've hit it off right? 

Aunt A. {softening to cordiality). So you are interested in 
suffrage? I'm very glad to hear that. Won't you be seated? 
I have just come on from Kansas where the fight for the right 
is strong just now and winning great support, as you know. 
{Looks at each man. They boiv solemnly.) It is a glorious 
work. Women are learning that there is something for them 
to do beyond and above the social life and its duties. Can you 
tell me {A knock.) 

Enter Fritz Himmelstein and Will Underwood. The boys 
greet each other. 

Bert {always graceful, presents Fritz ^;;^Will). Mny I 
present Mr. Himmelstein and Mr. Underwood, Miss — er — er ? 

Aunt A. Miss Perkins — if you please. Miss Harris's aunt. 
You are all friends of my niece, I take it ? 

Will. Yes. 

Bert. Indeed we are. 

(Fritz bows with hand on heart,) 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 



13 



Aunt A. Won't you be seated ? I was about to ask if 
Women's Rights are gaining any hold in Cambridge. We 
Kansas women are rising to a height we had never hoped 
to attain — to an altitude and an independence from men's 

tyranny Oh ! I beg your pardon ! It's not often that I 

have an audience composed entirely of men. 1 don't wish to 
be personal, but when speaking in general lines my aversion 
to the opposite sex sometimes gets the better of my courtesy. 

Fritz. But of the afersion to men — if, matam, all de ladies 
follow your example, where will den be the mudders of de 
future? 

Aunt A. My dear young man, there will be moiliers for a 
long time to come — one cannot hope for a millennium — but 
that is so little — anybody can be a mother — but to rise to flights 
of oratory, to lead our downtrodden sex to freedom 

(Aunt A. rises in her excitement, and the boys get up, too.) 

Will {at her right). But what about us poor men if our 
mothers and sisters are going to shake us entirely ? 

Fritz. And our sweedhearts — ach no — for me de mudder 
mit de childer aboud her — de wife mid her guiding hand upon 
her man's arm, de lover held from efil by de luf of de madchen. 

John. Gee ! You're right, Dutchy. {Ail but John sit.) 
Look at Frank Sylvester, fellows. What would he have been 
without Geraldine Harris's feminine influence? Your niece 
{bowijig to Aunt A.) has had more to do with making Frank 
what he is, the best all round man in the college, than anything 
else ever could. She never preaches at him — but Gad — that 
little girl can do anything with the finest athlete in college by 
just a look. 

Will. And he was a wild one, I tell you. (Aunt A. listens 
eagerly.) Loads of money — always had his own way — good- 
looking — smoked all the time, drank more or less, but Gerald- 
ine Well, I don't know, she just brought out the very 

best in him. I don't believe a Suffragette could have turned 
him a hair — with all deference, madam. {Bows to Aunt A., 
who smiles good-naturedly with a half incredulous shrug of 
her shoulders.) It seems to me there is no place in New 
England where women's rights are more thoroughly respected 
thnn in Cambridge, madam. Have you been here ever on 
Class Day? 

Aunt A. No, I have never been in the East in June, 



14 AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 

Joe. Well, you've missed it, that's all I've got to say, for 
if ever women have a triumph it's on that day. The whole 
town is full of them — the day is theirs — and at the great games 
it's just the same. Ever been here to a Harvard-Yale game, 
Miss Perkins? About Thanksgiving time ? 

Aunt A. No, I never have. Tell me about them. 

Joe. Go on, Will ; you're good at talking. 

Will. Well, you see, there's great excitement everywhere. 
Business is no good that afternoon for miles around. Every- 
body who can get a ticket shuts up and goes to the game. 

Joe {eagerly). And you've got to start early, if you're going 
to get there, too. By twelve o'clock the street cars are just 
emptying the crowds into Cambridge, and Boylston Street is 
getting fuller and fuller of people going early to avoid the rush. 
Just before the game you can hardly get one foot in front of the 
other, 

(Aunt A. has forgotten stiff r age ^ and becomes much inter- 
ested in the boys^ chatter.) 

Will. I tell you it's something to see — forty thousand peo- 
ple from all over the country sitting there watching two bunches 
of fellows play the game. 

(Gerald makes frantic efforts to have them go out, but they 
senile a?id wave their hands to him. Bob comes in. The 
boys greet each other. ^ 

Aunt A. How do you do, Mr. Jennings ? We were speak- 
ing of the big games. Will you join us? Where in the world 
do you seat forty thousand people ? 

Two OR Three. In the Stadium. 

Will. Haven't you seen the Stadium? (Aunt A. shakes 
her head.) Well, you ought to come in summer or in the fall 
for a big game. The two bands playing and the cheer leaders 
just tearing themselves into shoe-strings, and the fellows cheer- 
ing and singing. It's great. 

Bert. You can see the Stadium from the hall window. 
Won't you come and see it? 

John. Yes, let's show it to you. It's built like the Colos- 
seum at Rome. You can't see much of it ; but let's go out in 
the hall. 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 1 5 

{All go out talking enthusiastically^ and are most attentive to 
Aunt A. Bedroom door opens and Gerald creeps cau- 
tiously outy his dress partly unfastened. Looks wildly 
about.) 

Gerald. Did Frank's letter from Geraldine say she would 
be at home this noon? Lord! What a scrape I'm in. If 1 
could only get her by telephone. {Goes to telephone, but runs 
back to door to listen. Rushes to ^ phone.) Hello, central, 
give me Cam. 384. {Drops ^ phone a?id runs again to listen 
at the door and back again.') Hello, hold the line. {Listetis 
again at door.) Hello, is this 384? That you, Mary ? This 
is Mr. Gerald. Hold the line. {Again goes to door.) Hello, 
Mary. Is Miss Geraldine at home ? Tell her — hold the line ! 
(Listens.) Tell her to come to the 'phone quick — tell her to 
hurry, Mary. (/;/ desperate tones. Waits impatiently.) 
What keeps her so long ? A girl always has to stop and fix her 
hair before she can come to the telephone. ( Wipes his brow.) 
I'm losing flesh every minute. Nothing like anxiety to make 
one grow old. {Breaks off.) Hello, there — that you, Gerald- 
ine? Hold the line. {Runs to the door.) 1 say, old girl, 

come over here, quick; I'm in trouble. I Oh, gee — there 

they come ! 

{Runs into bedroom without ha?iging up the ^ phone. Boys 
a?id Aunt A. co7ne back talking enthusiastically.) 

Aunt A. {smiling and gracious). Now, you must all come 
in and have a cup of tea. My niece will be at leisure in a mo- 
ment, and will join us. Perhaps you will help me. I can 
make the tea — you know old maids are famous for that, but 
some one cut up the lemons. (Will takes out his jack-knife 
and cuts lemons. Bert puts cookies on plate. Bob opens the 
sugar. The others draiv out a small table and bring cups afid 
saucers, plates, etc., from the cupboard.) You seem to know 
just where things are. I think you said you are all great friends 
of my niece ? 

All. Yes, indeed. I should say so, etc. 

Bob. Give us a song, Joe, that falsetto stunt. 

All. Yes, go on and sing. 

{Here songs, mandolin solos, etc., etc., may be introduced. 
Joe sings ^' Char jni fig Weather^ from the Arcadians. 



l6 AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 

All sing 071 chorus. Gerald j'oi/is in from time to time 
without being observed by Aunt A., by putiitig his head 
up over the screen in front of the bedroom door. During 
the song Frank comes in and is introduced to Aunt A. 
Aunt A. goes to telephone, and finds it hanging.") 

Aunt A. Why, how strange. The telephone receiver is 
off. What a mystery. I didn't know the telephone had been 
used since my niece ordered the tea things. She hung it up 
then. 

Frank {eagerly). Why, has Miss Geraldine been here ? 

Aunt A. Oh, yes. She's in the sleeping-room. She'll be 
out in a few minutes. {Looks over the table.) Now, if we're 
all ready, I'll call her. (Bob has put a toy mouse on the table. 
Aunt A. sees it and screams.) Oh, dear ! what shall I do ? 
I'm mortally afraid of a mouse. Oh, oh, help, help ! It's com- 
ing right toward me ! 

{Seizes her skirts in both hands^ grows faint, sivoo7is, cling- 
ing to Frank. All tJie boys rush to catch her, and take 
her to the Morris chair. They dash about — Bert gets an 
empty beer bottle and holds it to her 7iostrils. The otJiers 
chafe her hands y begin to unlace her boots or stand help- 
lessly about. Gerald rushes out of the bedroo7n regard- 
less of his attire, which is half fe7ni7ii7ie a7id half 7nascu- 
line. After a 7ni7iute or tzvo Aunt A. ope7is her eyes a7id 
sits up i7i utter astonislmient at Gerald's appearance. 
Before she ca7i speak the door opens atid Geraldine 
Harris rushes i7i.) 

Geraldine. Oh, Gerald dear, what is the matter? I knew 
something dreadful must have happened when you telephoned. 
What is it? Will no one tell me? Who is this? Frank, 
won't you explain it? 

{Turns to hi7n with both hands thrown out to hifn.) 

Frank {taking her hands). I can't, Geraldine. I'm as 
much in the dark as you are. 

Aunt A. And I more than he. {IVith dignity.) If some 
one will be good enough to tell me where I am and who you all 
are, 1 shall be obliged. 

Gerald. No one can, Aunt Abigail, but myself. You see, 
you mixed us a bit. I live at 5 Eliot Terrace. I, Gerald Har- 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 



17 



ris, not Geraldine Harris. Your letter came here this morn- 
ing, and I tried to let you know at the Touraine that you were 
under a mistaken impression, but you had already started and 
I couldn't reach you. For larks 1 was trying on Geraldine's 
costume she wore in a play, and which 1 happened to have in 
my suit-case. I had carried it here for her tlie night before she 
went to New York. Before I had time to take it off, you 
caught me in it, and in a deuce of a scrape as well, for when 
that fellow there {shakiiig his fist at Bob) found how the land 
lay, he went out and brought in all this trash {indicati?ig the 
boys) to entertain you and keep me fast in there. I did get out 
long enough to telephone Geraldine to come over. That was 
when you all went out in the hall to seethe Stadium. Well, 
here she is, and I resign in her favor. I hope you're not aw- 
fully offended. It's a kind of a sorry joke all round, but, by 
Jove, it's funny, too. 

(They all laugh but Aunt A., who looks severe for a vio- 
menty but the humor of the situation gets the better of her, 
and she laughs with the rest.) 

Aunt A. Well, I certainly must say that I like the real 
thing better than the imitation. {Draws Geraldine to her 
and kisses her.) I'm glad, too, that my niece doesn't play 
baseball or smoke, and that my nephew doesn't go to New York 
to select hats for his mother. That tea's getting cold every 
minute — I'd like a cup, please. 

{She is served by Gerald and the boys. Geraldine pours 
tea for all, Frank hovering 7iear, Here any college talk 
or ftm can be introduced.) 

Will {reading from a paper). Well, here's a story I'd like 
to read to my sister. 

Boys. Go ahead, Underwood, what is it? 

Will {reading). "The Careful Shopper." A young lady 
went to the stamp window at the post-office and asked if they 
had any two-cent stamps to sell. The polite clerk assured her 
that they had. '<■ I would like to see some." The clerk brought 
out a large sheet which she looked over carefully and critically. 
At last she pointed to one in the center of the sheet, and said, 
"I will take that one ! " 

Fritz. Miss Perkins, how long haf you been a Suffragette? 

Aunt A. Oh ! for years and years. 



1 8 AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS 

John. Then you're not like the woman I read of recently 
in the Advertiser. 

( The boys stop chatting to listen. Frank a?id Geraldine 
are too absorbed in each other at the tea-table to know any- 
thing that is going on about them.) 

Aunt A. What is that ? 

John. I cut it out — I'll read it to you. (Reads.) " Have 
you ever been arrested before ? " asked the judge of the young 
woman at the bar. *<No," she snapped, "I've only been a 
Suffragette two days." 

Aunt A. (^laughing'). They're always getting a joke on us 
poor Suffragettes. But, dear me, we shall be late to the matinee. 
Geraldine ! (Geraldine is deep in conversation with Frank.) 
Geraldine ! 

Geraldine. Yes, auntie. 

Aunt A. You are to go to the matinee with me. Are you 
ready ? 

Geraldine {a bit reluctantly). Yes, auntie. 

Aunt A. Then put on your wraps. Mr. Sylvester {severely)^ 
I'd like to speak with you a moment. (Frank has been as- 
sisting Geraldine into her coatf and rather hesitatingly fol- 
lows Aunt A. to the front of the stage.) Mr. Sylvester {fix- 
ing him with her eye), I think I heard you say you'd like to 
talk it over with the Kansas auntie. 

Frank {stammering). What — I — me — you heard me say? 

Aunt A. Yes, I heard you say so. I was behind the 
screen. Now, young man, you will have the opportunity to do 
so next Monday evening at the Touraine. I shall expect you. 

Frank. I'll be there, Miss Perkins. 

Aunt A. (sjniling). And I think you will find me amenable 
to reason. {She looks meaningly at him — he breaks into a 
broad s??iile and grasps her outstretched hand. They shake 
hands with excellent understanding of each other. Aunt A. 
tur7is away.) I shall expect you, then. {To all.) I'm really 
sorry to go, youngsters. 

All. Don't go, Miss Perkins. {Crowd about her.) 

Gerald. Don't go, Aunt Abigail. 

Aunt A. But I must. Just think of the all woman caste at 
the Bijou Dream for the unmarried working women ! I must 
go. But I don't see why you can't all come to see me next 
Tuesday evening at the Touraine, 



AUNT ABIGAIL AND THE BOYS IQ 

All. We can, we will, we'll be there, etc. 

Aunt A. Then I'll expect you. Good-bye, good-bye. I 
wish I might stay, for I find I am getting over my aversion to 
boys. 

(Aunt A. and Geraldine go out bowing and smiling, at- 
tended to the door by the boys.) 

Gerald. What's the matter with Aunt Abigail ? 
All. She's all right ! 



CURTAIN 



New Plays 



THE MISSING MISS MILLER 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 

By Harold A. Clarke 

Six males, five females. Scenery, two interiors ; costumes modern. 
Plays a full evening. A bright and up-to-date farce-comedy of the liveliest 
type All the parts good ; full of opportunity for all bauds. Hymen's Ma- 
trimonial Bureau is the starting point of a good plot and the scene of lots 
of funny incident. Easy to produce and strongly recommended. Good 
tone ; might answer for schools, but is a sure hit for amateur theatricals, 
i'rotessional stage rights reserved. 

Price, 25 cents 
CHARACTERS 

Hymen Trouble, wanoper 0/ </ie 5(m Sherlaw Combs, Sleuth, friend of 

Francisco Matrimonial Agency. Buckskin. 

ScoTTY Buckskin, a couj^bi///w«£ar Gwendolyn Dashforth, mece to 

X Ranch, Texas. Colonel Penuckle. 

Colonel B. Penuckle, from Pacific Bostonia Joughnz, friend of Gwen- 

Avenne dolyn. 

TeteuD.Q.V^vrdz, of the staff of the Mrs. Losta Mann, housekeeper for 

San Francisco Daily Yahoo. the Colonel. 

Dr. Faunce Rhinestone, who keeps Cassie Pauline Skidoo, an author- 

an auto. ^** ^/ '^^ v'fense school. 

Tessie Tapp, a typist. 

Costumes, modern. 
SYNOPSIS 

ACT I.— The marriage bureau, Powell Street, San Francisco. 

ACT II.— Home of Colonel B. Penuckle, Pacific Avenue, San Francisco. 

ACT III.— The marriage buieau. 



CAMILLE 

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 

From the French of Alexandre Dumas, Fils, 
By Mildred Aldri^h 

Nine males, five females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, varied. I*'ays 
a full evening. A new acting version of this popular pla^, Anth fuU ptaece 
business. A complete working prompt-book. Strongly recommeodea. 

Price, 15 ceni^ 



New Publications 



PIECES PEOPLE LIKE 

Serious, Humorous, Pathetic, Patriotic and Dramatic 

Selections in Prose and Poetry for Reading 

and Recitation 

One hundred selections in prose and verse by Chauncey M. Depew, 
Col. John Hay, Hezekiah Butterworth, James Russell Lowell, John 
Boyle O'Reilly, Robert G. Ingersoll, Bill Nye, James Whitcomb Riley, 
T. W. Higginson, W. H. Seward, Clement Scott, Joaquin Miller, E. C. 
Stedman, Brander Matthews, John G. Saxe, Joel Benton, Charles FoUen 
Adams and others. 214 pages. 

Price i 2^ cents 

BAKER'S COMIC AND DIALECT 
SPEAKER 

Readings and Recitations for School or Platform 
in Negro and Irish Dialect 

One hundred and forty-three selections in prose and verse by Irwin 
Russell, Joel Chandler Harris, M. Quad, Mark Twain, Detroit Free Press, 
Texas Siftings, R. H. Stoddard, Samuel Lover, «• Life," Joaquin Miller, 
Capt. Marryat, Cormac O'Leary, W. W. Fink, Margaret Eytinge, Wm, 
B. Fowle, Mark Melville, T. N. Cook, Lizzie N. Champney and others. 
362 pages. 

Price, 2^ cents 

CLUB AND LODGE-ROOM ENTER- 
TAINMENTS 

For Floor or Platform Use 

Comprising : " A Ribbon Race," any number, males and females ; " A 
Variety Contest," any number, males and females ; " The Shamrock Min- 
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and females ; " Plantation Bitters," nine males, eight females ; " Gulliver 
and the Lilliputians Up To Date," ten males ; " Dame History's Peep- 
Show," any number ; " The Broom Drill," sixteen characters, male or 
female or both. 160 pages. 

Price, 2^ cents 



Sent post-paid on receipt of price by 

Walter H. Baker & Co., 5 Hamilton Place 

BOSTON, MASS. 



By the Author of '^Mr. Bob" 

THE NEW CRUSADE 

A Comedy in Two Acts 
By Rachel Baker Gale 

Twelve females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two interiors. Plays one 
hour and thirty minutes. A very amusing satire of the servant girl ques- 
tion, brimful of telling incidents and effective lines. All the parts are 
good and of nearly equal opportunity, and practically play themselves. 
Well rehearsed, it is a sure success and goes with a scream. Irish, negro 
and Swede character parts and a " tough " girl. Strongly recommended 
for ladies' clubs. Can be played only on payment of a royalty of ^^5.00 
to the author. 

Price y 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 

Miss Morris,, nothing if not businesslike. 

Mrs. Cogswell-Brown, who believes in cooperative housekeeping, 

Mrs. Potter- Hewitt, who looks small, but is not. 

Mrs. Raymond, who advocates "The New Crusade.** 

Mrs. Archibald Tracey, ijt search of a maid and experience. 

Bridgett Mahoney, in search of " an ould ginileman. ' 

Mary Macguire, who likes "the theyatre in the winter toime** 

Augusta Olsen, who comes from "Svedenfor big fnonay.** 

Cassie Clay, who never "takes suggestions from anybody.** 

Jennie Burch, who never "has tijne for afternoon tea*' 

Matilda Johnson, who likes " slaughtermobiles and a chqjfer** 

Merry, the settlement girl — who s always "on de level** 

COATS AND PETTICOATS 

A Comedy in One Act 

By Rachel Baker Gale 
One male (played by a woman), seven females, and if desired, sixteen 
girls for chorus. Costumes, modern ; scene, an interior. Plays forty-five 
minutes. A very lively and amusing piece introducing fancy dresses, 
music and dancing. All the parts of about equal opportunity. Irish 
comedy part and two capital " old maids." Very funny and not difficult. 
Complete with music for the Suffragettes' song and march and the Old 
Maids* song and march. Very strongly recommended. 

Price, 2^ cents 

AN EASY MARK 

A Farce in One Act 

By Innis Gardner O shorn 
Five males, two females. Costumes, modern ; scene, an easy interior. 
Plays thirty-five minutes. A side-splitting farce of college life lively enough 
to suit the most exacting demands. Full of funny incident and telling 
lines. Burlesque actor and " tough " young man parts ; the rest " straight" 
and all good. Recommended for schools. lyice^ /jr centi. 



JUW 30 1913 



New Entertainments 



OUR CHURCH FAIR 

A Farcical Entertainment in Two Acts 

^j Jessie A. Kelley 
Twelve females. Costumes modern ; scenery unimportant. Plays ek, 
hour and a quarter. A humorous picture of the planning of the annual 
church fair by the ladies of the sewing circle. Full of local hits and 
general human nature, and a sure laugh-producer in any community. 
Can be recommended. 

Price f 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 

Mrs. Roberts, who wants to be Mrs. Lawson, plump, 

president. Mrs. Brown, anxious to get nem 

Mrs, Henry, youngs giddy, church attendants, 

fond of novels, Mrs. Addison, very inquisitive^ 

Mrs. Jackson, the president of Mrs. Ridgely, sensitive. 

the society, Mrs. Otis, on the dinner com" 

Mrs. Brett, on the dinner com- mittee, 

mittee, Mrs. Thompson, decidedly c/ose, 

Mrs. Lewis, the minister* s wife, Mrs. Drew, just married, 

THE RIVAL CHOIRS 

An Entertainment in One Scene 

By Sherman F, Johnson 

Seven males, four females. Costumes eccentric ; scenery unimportant. 
Plays one hour. A novelty in musical entertainments, introducing the 
old choir and the new in competition. A novel setting for a concert, 
offering an interesting contrast between the old music and the new. Lots 
of incidental fun, character and human nature. Sure to please. Origi- 
nally produced in Meriden, Conn. 

PricCy 2^ cents 

A THIEF IN THE HOUSE 

A Comedy in One Act 

By R, M, Robinson 

Six males, one playing a female character (colored). Costumes modern 
scenery, an interior. Plays forty-five minutes, A first-class play for mah 
characters only, of strong dramatic interest with plenty of comedy. A play 
that can be recommended, in spite of its lack of female characters, to an| 
ludience. 

Price f 2^ cents 



Jl* m* Pinero's Plays 

Price, 50 0ent$ Cacb 



Hilin r"!! K XTKiri Play in Four Acts. Six males, five females. 
MlU-LnAININLL costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. 
Plays two and a half hours. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITH ^Jir eF,"SI 

mules, five females. Costumes, modern; scenery, all interiors. 
Plays 'a full evening. 

Tfir nnrfcCI ir" ATr Play in Four Acts. Seven males, five 
1 nti r KUr Lllj A i L females. Scenery, three interiors, rather 
elaborate ; costumes, modern. Plays a full eveuing. 

Tf ir Cr'Unm nyilCTDUCC Farce in Three Acts. Nine males, 
IHt oLHUULlVllMKLiJO seven females. Costumes, mod- 
ern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

THE SECOND MRS. TANQUERAY ^tU^'Si^iXi 

females. Costumes, modern; scenery, three interiors. Plays a 
full evening. 

ClirrrT I AVUMnUD Comedyln Three Acts. Seven D(iales, 
oWLtl LAVt-INULK. four females. Scene, a single interior, 
costumes, modern. Plays a full eveuing. 

THE THUNDERBOLT nSle^femri'es.^ scenery, three interi- 
ors; costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

TUr TllWirC Comedy in Four Acts. Six males, seven feniales. 
Irih lliVlLiJ Scene. a single interior; costumes, modern. Plays 

a full evening. 

Tfir lirr-AVrD CrV Comedy in Three Acts. Eight males, 
THh WtARtK OLA eight females. Costumes, modern; 
scenery, two interiors. Plays a full evening. 

A WIFE WITHOUT A SMILE g?vT^liS,fL'rfemi;2: 

Costumes, modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full evemng. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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THF AWAlTFMNfi ^^^^ ^" ^^^^ ^^*^- ^^ ^- ■^- chambers. 

lULi A tT AIVL(iilliU Four males, six females. Scenery, not diffi- 
cult, chiefly interiors; costumes, modern. 
Price, 50 Cents. 



Plays a full evening. 



THE FRUITS OF ENLIGHTENMENT 



HIS EXCELLENCY THE GOVERNOR 



AN IDEAL HUSBAND 



Comedy in Four Acts. 

By L.Tolstoi. Twenty- 
one males, eleven females. Scenei'y, characteristic interiors ; cos- 
tumes, modern. Plays a full evening. Recommended for reading 
clubs. Price, 35 Cents. 

Farce in Three Acts, By 
R. Marshall. Ten 

males, three females. Costvimes, modern ; scenery^ one interior. 

Acting rights reserved. Time, a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

Comedy in Four Acts. By Oscar Wilde. 

Nine males, six females. Costumes, mod- 
ern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. Acting rights 
reserved. Sold for reading. Price, 50 Cents. 

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST S[r i'i llc!l 

Wilde. Five males, four females. Costumes, modern ; scenes, two 
interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. Acting rights re- 
served. Price, 50 Cents. 

LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN l^^lT^^.^Zt^e^lSl^'^l 

males. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full 
evening. Acting rights reserved. Price, 50 Cents. 

NATHAN Ff AT F ^^^^' ^^ -^^^^^ -^^^^^ -^^ Clyde Fitch. Fifteen 
iiALUiiil HALiU males, four females. Costumes of the eighteenth 
century in America, Scenery, four interiors and two exteriors. Act- 
ing rights reserved. Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

Comedy in Three Acts. ByM. B. Horne. 

Six males, four females. Scenery, two 
interiors ; costumes, modern. Professional stage rights reserved. 
Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

Comedy in Four Acts. By C. H. 

Chambers. Four males, three fe- 
males. Scenery, an interior and an exterior ; costumes, modern. 
Acting rights reserved. Plays a full evening. Price, 50 Cents. 

A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE ^di^^^VlL-^E^^t^H 

seven females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors and an 
exterior. Plays a full evening. Stage rights reserved. Offered for 
reading only. Price, 50 Cents. 



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